Five For Fighting
by Slingblade
Summary: Chpt 7 is up! Thanks to those that review! This took a new direction as I was inspired to change the character of the soldier...maybe for the worst .. PS any typos feel free to point them out.. after awhile you dont see them yourself.
1. Approaching Thunder

Time line: Set during the team's time with Stockwell

Warnings: Not too many yet... it is mostly safe …injury- free violence

Would love reviews… this story is in the works and could go any direction

The guys aren't mine... couldn't handle them if they were

Chapter 1

Approaching Thunder

………………………………...

Lightening crackles across the dark sky and is followed by an uneasy rumbling of thunder in the distance. A storm is fast approaching.

………………………………...

Moist foliage whispers against camouflaged legs.

Mud-caked boots glide soundlessly across the jungle floor.

Humid puffs of breath escape a masked intruder...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Crouching on the dirt floor of the cell, Hannibal grimaced as the cramps wracked the muscles of his stomach.

Murdock knelt beside him, using a tattered rag to dry perspiration from the older man's forehead. His fever was getting worse. "You OK Colonel?"

Smith groaned out a wise crack, "Feels like I've been drinking some of BA's poisoned milk again." He waved off the worried pilot. "I'm ok Murdock. How's Face?"

Murdock stood stretching his long frame, mindful of his battered ribs. "He's holding up Colonel. I think he finally stopped pukin'."

The two weeks they had spent in the Columbian prison camp had weighed heavily on the team. The physical toll taken from the daily abuses was evident. Tattered remnants of fatigues clung to their ever-thinning frames. Bruises and welts decorated their skin. But their most immediate concern was not the battle being waged against them by the camp guards, but rather the battle being fought at a cellular level.

Bacteria.

That unlikely assassin had claimed more lives in Vietnam prison camps than all of the Vietcong guards combined. Face and Hannibal were currently getting their asses kicked by what Murdock had diagnosed as Montezuma's Revenge. For several days the men had suffered from severe abdominal cramps and diarrhea. As of late, those symptoms had been accompanied by a hellish fever and vomiting. This was a potentially lethal combination when one considered the oppressive jungle heat and lack of water. Death from dehydration became a very real possibility.

"Now don't worry guys," Murdock coached, "my fluid filtration and retention system will come through for us." He gazed proudly at the flight jacket tacked up above their heads. Turned inside out and funneling down into a single sleeve where it empted into a small dent metal cup.

Face slid open one eye, observing Murdock's latest invention. He wondered how much filtering a 20-year-old flight jacket was actually capable of accomplishing. Not really wanting to begin the conversation he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "Ahem… Murdock, when did you last have that jacket cleaned?"

"Remember, BA cleaned it for me. He threw me into that tank at the fish hatchery. Fish oils are great for leather." Murdock patted the old jacket. "Except…now every time I wear it I crave tuna."

Face groaned, "I knew I would be sorry I asked."

Murdock gazed skyward. All they needed now was a little cooperation. He grinned at the lightning streaking across the heavens. "Any time Big Guy.. Just turn that old knob….whenever You are ready.. A little fresh H-2-0 right from the ole' spigot." The Captain's smile stayed plastered on as he talked through his teeth, "I hope he isn't holding a grudge about that time you dressed up as a priest Faceman."

Thunder boomed.

"Me! Let me remind you Murdock, you've dressed up like a nun before." He smiled at the memory of Murdock in the black frock. The brilliant smile turned quickly to a wince as a booming retort came from above.

Murdock jabbed his finger at the con man, "You talked me into it!" He looked sincerely to the sky. "Honest, he did. Besides," he shrugged… "I'm crazy. God protects all the little children and crazy people" Murdock stated this as if it was an accepted matter of clerical fact.

As if on cue, the heavens opened and rain pattered against the worn leather. The droplets collected together and began a meandering course down the sleeve.

Hannibal grinned, "Nice, Murdock. Nice. "

Murdock tilted his head back catching some of the life giving water on his parched tongue. He squinted up through the bamboo bars wishing he could catch a glimpse of the moon. It was impossible to judge the time, but it felt like BA had been gone for hours.

Movement from the guard tower caught his attention. "Colonel, I think you should take a look at this."

TBC


	2. Dirty Little Wars

Chapter 2

Dirty Little Wars

………………………………...

Slipping through the perimeter with practiced ease, the dark form paused for a moment. Crouching beneath the pillars of the guard tower as lightning illuminated the camp…

………………………………...

Hannibal forced his eyes to focus through the dense down pour of rain and their own fever- induced haze. "How many can you make out Capitan?"

Murdock's quick brown eyes utilized the flashes of lightning to search the terrain again.

"I might be wrong Colonel, but I'd only lay out hymnals for five at choir practice tonight. Well, six if you count the mud-sucker twice, he does sing really loud."

Hannibal ignored Murdock's newest personality diversion as he assessed the situation. No increased guard activity. Perimeter patrols still normal. Impressive.

The Colonel grinned. Not a bad beginning, but any attempt to cross the clearing would be suicide. The guards in the tower would have an easy time picking off an intruder. "Hope he's got a plan."

The tower in question loomed an impressive 30 feet above the dank camp. Its bulky size came from the elaborate support structure of oversized telephone poles and enormous slanting cross- members. A retracted rope ladder provided the only access to the guard shack that was perched at its apex.

The guard shack itself was just that. A shack. Seemingly, the builders had exhausted all thought and energy on the construction of the base and had decided to top their creation with a tree house. The only redeeming characteristics of the rickety structure was that it supported a machine gun turret and it provided the two guards that manned it a 360 degree birds- eye- view of the camp.

Face made his way over to his teammates, offering the now brimming cup of water to the Colonel.

Smith scowled and nodded toward Murdock.

Rather than engaging in a futile argument with his commander the pilot took a quick obligatory swig then handed the much-needed liquid to the colonel.

What's going on out there?" Face tried to follow Murdock's gaze.

"Our salvation is upon us, Brother Peck." Murdock pointed to the tower.

With the next strobe of lightning the young lieutenant's eyes were drawn to the movement of a dark silhouette climbing the massive support beams.

Murdock continued to preach. "And from the depth of night a lone Sheppard has come forth to savith' our bacon. "

"Aww… Murdock," Face winced, "you're not fazing into the Reverend again are you?"

The Reverend was, without a doubt, one of Murdock's most annoying characters. Once he got the Holy a-Rollin', it was all downhill with no breaks.

The pilot smiled knowingly, "The Reverend _has_ arrived and _will _be taking confessions for the rest of the evening.. And _you_" he waved a slender finger at the con-man continuing in a Desi Arnaz impression, "have a lot of splanin' to do."

"Lock it up Murdock," Hannibal hissed. "They're coming with BA. "

………………………………...

At the sound of approaching guards the climber swung to the inside of the structure, clinging in motionless camouflage against the side of the slick wood beams.

………………………………...

The three guards backed away from the fallen prisoner. Exhausted and frustrated one of the men sat back heavily onto a stack of tires. The guards that had been tasked with the questioning of Baracus were from some standpoints, more the worse for wear than the soldier in their charge.

The massively built American had landed his fair share of shots. Shaking his Mohawked head, he tried to maintain his bearings. Observing with satisfaction that the men were breathless and obviously hurting from his previous assault. They were inept and out of shape.

He smiled as he heard Face's voice "Hannibal everyone of these guys is about one burrito shy of a coronary. I say we stop trying to escape and just wait them out." BA pictured the men dropping over.. Bean burrito protruding from their mouth and he laughed aloud. It would serve them right.

The senior guard threw his bamboo cane across the small room. Cursing in his native tongue as he swiped sweat from his grimy brow. He remained seated as he yelled his insults, too spent to exert energy on a fit of greater magnitude. "You tell us the account number?" He panted the question. "No harm in telling this, yes? Save yourself pain. Angel just want his money."

The desperate guard was nearly pleading for a response from the laughing prisoner. Having failed miserably in his attempts to extract information from the men, he knew he would soon feel the repercussions.

Bound with his hands in front of him, BA balanced on his knees and clinched fists. Blinking the stinging sweat from his eyes, he waited for another opportunity to exact some revenge on his captors.

It pissed him off that some low life dirt bags like these had gotten the upper hand on the team. Hannibal had seen them through situations much tougher than this. They had defeated some of the best- trained soldiers in the world; they had escaped from a prison camp the likes of which these men could not even imagine.

His mind flashed through the memories of Danag….

"Naw, you ain't got nothing on that sucka." He pushed himself to his feet glaring insolently from one guard to the next. He made a 'come on' gesture daring them to approach again.

The men laughed at this but were unwilling to accept the invitation.

"You tough eh hombre?" The seated man bleated the question in broken English "Maybe we work on your crazy amigo again… see if he tough like you, eh?"

BA growled menacingly.

The men laughed again, but the two younger guards gave a wide berth as they moved to flank him.

"Take him back," spat a voice from the doorway. A lanky figure entered the dim circle of light. Thick dark hair slicked back from a dramatically tall forehead. The Columbian drug czar drew a breath through burning tobacco leaves. "It's obvious Manuel, your methods will not break these men." His accent was thick but his English was refined and cultured. His youthful appearance served to disguise his age of forty plus years.

The two guards looped wooden clubs through their prisoner's arms and forced him to the center of the dingy room.

Angel Nandian smiled at the man before him. "You and your friends have cost me a great deal. You … poisoned my fields…robbed my shipments……kidnapped my family… _you have stolen my money_." He shook his head as if he admired the capabilities of the men that had brought his lucrative heroin operation to the ground. "But, in the end, you will help me recover some of my losses. You will give me the Swiss bank codes and return the money you have taken. You _will_ tell me where my wife is hiding and I will have my son."

At the mention of the boy BA snarled and flexed his massive arms. The marine line that bound his wrists cut deeper into the abused skin. He focused on the pain rather than allow his mind to conjure images of what could happen to the terrified woman and child should they ever be found.

Blowing out a thoughtful breath of smoke, the man spoke again."You are a soldier. Your government has trained you to resist. But my government taught me lessons as well. Like they say in your American movies...in Columbia we have ways of making you talk." He took another long drag, "I am an expert at this game _Mr. Baracus_."

He laughed largely at the shocked look on the prisoner's face. "_Yes_ you see…I _know_ who you are. You and your _associates_ are not the only people with connections in government."

Information was just another commodity for sale in the third world country. It had not taken much effort for a man of Nadian's wealth and power to identify the four men. He knew that the men were Americans, and had of course expected they were soldiers. But the results of the fingerprint analysis had reveled an unexpected surprise.

"The A-team. " He marveled again at his good fortune.

Removing a gold lighter from the pocket of his linen slacks he relit the tip of his cigar. "Your corrupt government has obviously faked your death so you can fight with impunity their dirty little wars abroad. Now here you sit.. forsaken by those you served so valiantly." He laughed, Just like Vietnam. Yes?"

BA sneered his silent response.

"Why do you protect a country of cowards?" He shook his head smiling slyly, "Why, I wonder, why are you willing to _die _so America can wage this secret war against me?"

"You're a stinkin' drug dealer posin' kids an you gonna pay!" BA lunged forward dragging the guards in his wake.

A well-aimed blow behind the ear finally subdued the powerful man. Sagging between the guards, Baracus was drug out into the pelting rain.

The tall Columbian meandered to the corner of the room, nonchalantly picking a photo from the cluttered desktop.

Studying the image intently, he touched the cherry of his cigar to the corner of the picture. _Evidently Sgt Baracus believes it is only he and his team that will suffer for the loss of my empire…the loss of my son… No it will take much more to satisfy my wrath._

With contempt he flicked the burning photo to the ground. The black and white surveillance photo of BA's mother melted as if she felt her son's anguish.

TBC


	3. On the Jazz

"Murdock!" Hannibal hissed.

"I'm on it Colonel." Murdock hastily ripped down his flight jacket and plopped his boney knees on top of it in prayer position. "Lord let the ugly mud sucker be okay." He crossed himself. "North.. South.. East.. West … God always liked me best."

Face struggled to his feet. "Can you see BA?"

"Lock it up Lieutenant." Hannibal ordered gruffly. The last thing he needed was for Face to draw more attention to himself. None of them were in shape for more one on one sessions with the guards. The colonel's anger was palpable as the men dragged in BA's limp form. He moved forward quickly to catch his friend as the guards dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. A controlled rage burned in the Colonel's eyes as he checked over his fallen comrade.

Monitoring the proceedings from beneath a sandy lock of hair Face tried to fade into the background. He waited for any opportunity to utilize the last reserves of his strength on a possible attack.

Murdock immediately attempted to distract the men as he launched in to a feverant prayer. Lord help these Columbian cockroaches repent for their actions. .before the angry mud sucker flicks on the light and stomps upon them with those flat feet of his. Ye.. Though they are emotionally and hygienically challenged o Lord ..I believe that with _Your _guidance and a vat of soap.. they too might be saved. "

The men retreated from the cramped cell, never giving their dangerous and most certainly insane charges the opportunity to attack.

Lowering the injured man to the floor, the colonel supported his mohawked head with a slightly shaking hand. His cold stare never wavered from the guards.

The intensity and hate of his gaze was not lost upon the men. They checked twice the heavy chain and lock that bound the prisoners.

BA groaned as he struggled to regain his senses. Murdock rejoined his friend, crouching at his shoulders. "With the power vested in me by the Big Guy upstairs I say rise again Mohican wonder." Murdock shut his eyes as he placed the heel of his hand on the brow of his longtime friend.

Face shook his head and flicked the cup of water onto the fallen man.

Angry brown eyes snapped open. "Get off a me crazy sucka." BA scrambled to get to his feet. Hannibal and Face attempted to assist him, and were promptly shaken off by he angry Sergeant.

"Did you see that Colonel.. I healed him.." Murdock stared at his own hands in wonderment. "I have the power."

"Shut up Murdock, I don't want to hear it " BA growled. Wiping the dripping water from his face he shoved past the pilot and continued to rant at the guards. "You want to heal somebody.. You can heal what's left of these suckas!" He shook the bars and attempted to reach through and grab one of the baffled men.

Face slid over beside his commander, "If the decibel level is any indication, he sounds like he's okay." Face shrugged at the Colonel.

Smith managed a small smile. "Well, If it was a distraction our commando needed, I think BA more than filled the bill."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

Soundlessly the infiltrator levered between the railing and onto the platform. A few moments later both guards lay unconscious on the rotting pine floor.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

BA gazed at the guard tower, having been momentarily calmed by the news of a possible escape and the strangled promise of Murdock that the reverend would go on a sabbatical for awhile. Choking was always a quick way of persuading Murdock to tone it down.

Face pondered on the escape, "Do you think Stockwell sent him Hannibal? I mean we are two weeks overdue in Bogotá."

No Hannibal muttered. Stockwell wouldn't have wasted a second thought on us once our mission was accomplished." Smith found himself patting his pockets for a cigar. Damn it was hard to plan without one. "Besides, if Stockwell was coming in he would have sent more than one agent. His goon squads couldn't liberate a Latrine with less than thirty men.

Growling BA shook his head. "One guy? Aww Hannibal."

"Oh.. Come now BA" Smith hooked an arm around Face and the Sergeant. "You cant judge the effectiveness of an operation by the sheer number of its operatives, after all look at us. We are a fighting force of four. But, we are four highly motivated, well trained, experienced soldiers.. In spite of the fact that we work for Stockwell." The Colonel grinned as he allowed the warm tingling anticipation of battle to replace the weariness in his limbs. "Maybe this guy is just like us…A soldier that will stop at nothing to complete his mission."

BA growled.

"Guess it would be a bad time to remind you that _we_ got caught." Face muttered.

Smith continued undaunted. "Yes Face, it would be a bad time. I'm trying to build some momentum here."

Murdock smiled. I'm with you Colonel.. now that we've got five for fighting… It almost doesn't seem fair. "

Smith cackled merrily as the Jazz took hold.


	4. It figures

A dark coil of rope dropping from the tower above landed with a wet thump on the soft rain soaked ground.

Hannibal could have sworn the climber gave a small wave as he jumped off the railing.

Careful not to draw the guards draw attention to where he was looking, BA scowled as he watched the man cradle the M-60 in his arms and descend the tower in the upside down Australian repelling position.

"This dude's crazier than Murdock. Sucka coming down head first. Lucky he didn't fall and break his head."

Face blew out a exasperated breath. "Figures it would be some crazy nut job running full tilt on the Jazz coming to bust us out."

Smith laughed again, "Yeah it does doesn't it."

"Do you think it could be Wild Willie from the VA Colonel?" Murdock pestered at the men. "I mean we _have_ been gone for awhile and I never got a chance to return that tapioca pudding I borrowed."

"You talking bout that 80 year guy in the ward at the VA? Man he can't even see!" BA grumbled.

"It could be him .. he _is_ crazy… and the man would do _anything _for tapioca. I watched him chew a hole through a sheet rock wall once just to get into the kitchen. And he _can to _see!... He went right past the creamed peas and straight to the pudding."

BA moved to grab the babbling pilot.

Hannibal held him back. "Captain.." he warned.

"Ate the whole thing…and that's not even the crazy part… crazy part was the door to the kitchen _wasn't even locked_!" Murdock finished defensively.

The soldier hesitated at the first of the cross supports, twisting a booted foot tighter into the rope. The descent slowed to a stop.

Two men trudged along a worn path up to the guard tower. Heads tucked against the rain, they rang an ancient brass bell nailed to a post. The signal was to alert the guards in the tower to drop the rope ladder so they could be relieved of duty.

Hearing a rustle above them they looked skyward.

Face winced as he saw the rope coil like a snake around the throat of the largest man. The climber swung down using his weight and momentum to jerk the guard of his feet as he dispatched the other with a strike from the butt of the machine gun. The guard fought to get his balance, choking against the serpentine noose. Pulled mightily against the nylon rope the much larger guard leveraged the smaller man's weight, lifting him easily. Twisting upside down, the climber braced his feet on the support and watched through the camo hood as his victim's struggles soon subsided. Releasing the rope both he and the unconscious guard dropped to the ground.

Face lost sight of them as the men were dragged further into the shadows.

"Get ready." Smith ordered unnecessarily. With the surveillance from above neutralized their commando had a clear path to the holding cells. The men were careful to dispersed throughout the cramped cell while maintaining vigil on the approaching soldier.

Slipping along the shadows of the building the soldier moved with quick purpose. Pausing only at the end of the bungalows when Smith made a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

One of the three guards assigned to watch them that night had meandered up to the bamboo cage. In his slightly inebriated condition he had almost come too close. Catching his mistake he stumbled back a step.

The Colonel acknowledged the man's near fatal mistake with a sneer. _Almost. _

"What's got you wound up tonight? Eh? You should all be sleeping." He laughed at the men. "Especially you," he poked a wooden baton into Murdock's thin chest. "You are going to have a busy day crazy man."

Smith's eyes hardened as the masked figure leapt.


	5. Liberated Monkeys

The inebriated guard had stumbled away in disgust from the rickety card table and the flop that would have given him three-of-a-kind. This was a fact that was not lost on his two jeering poker buddies as they had promptly turned over his discarded cards and observed the folly. Their taunts followed him and served to further fuel his surly demeanor.

Staggering over to observe his restless charges he hitched up the remains of his trousers and puffed out his sagging chest. Alcohol had done for him what it does for most weak-minded cretins by liquefying courage and amplifying belligerence. He attempted to regain some of his bravado by badgering the caged men. Fortunately, he had retained enough of his senses that he kept arms length from the prisoners… unfortunately, his sense of self preservation was not prevalent enough to protect him from an unforeseen variable.

Rushing quietly forward the camo-clad figure cornered around the edge of the unpopulated troop barracks and crossed the clearing to the tin metal lean-to that sheltered the tequila- filled 'high rollers'.

Slurred betting continued as the men remained completely oblivious to the approaching danger.

Unable to see the position of the occupants, the infiltrator queued onto Smith's signals.

The small negative shake of his silver capped head had the soldier dropping low into the mud just outside their position. Smith had to suppress a smile of satisfaction.

'_I've got an Ace in the hole boys and you guys are still throwing your money in the pot'_

It was time to stack the deck in their favor. ' _Just_ a _couple more steps, Paco,' _Smith willed the man to come closer.

Murdock moved beside his Colonel, never allowing his eyes to revel the position of the approaching soldier.

The Columbian leaned in, jabbing his wavering baton into Murdock's chest.

Smith squared his shoulders and all Hell broke loose.

A well executed drop kick sent the taunting guard sailing forward into Hannibal's waiting arms. A practiced flick of the wrist left the guard melting boneless to the ground at the Colonel's feet.

Stunned, the other guards remained seated, staring incredulously at the unfolding events.

Not wasting time to watch the inevitable outcome between the prisoner and the guard, the soldier returned to the duty at hand. Neutralizing the remaining hostiles.

Kicking the poker table toward the smaller of the two stagnant guards the soldier targeted the remaining man as he clamored from the chair. The m- 60 swung through the air like a Louisville slugger. The stock of the weapon connected brutally with the jaw of its victim. The resulting sound effect was a disturbingly wet smack that was quickly emulated by the body dropping onto the soggy ground.

Face was crouched at the base of the cell, hands working through the pockets of the fallen guard as little white projectiles landed in the mud beside his knees. Wincing in mock sympathy he offered some personal insight. "Hurts like hell.. Huh, buddy. Don't worry happens to me all the time. I know a great dentist in LA… He can put those right back in. " His hands continued to dance over the fallen guard, pausing as they touched on a prize. He held up a pin that had been used to hold a rank insignia on the sleeve of the dilapidated uniform. Just as well he relive him of his rank now .. It would save Nandian the trouble of busting him down himself after their escape. Smiling, Peck showed off the some of the dentist's finest work.

BA shook the door of the cage aching to get into the fray. "Look out man!"

The remaining guard had bumbled over the remains of the poker game, swinging a grimy baton at the head of their would-be-savior . Ducking what would have been a fatal blow the soldier rolled toward the guard and kicked forward, connecting with both feet on the knees of the drunken man. The strike obliterated the delicate joints, dropping the man instantly to the ground. From a seated position the soldier struck out again with a booted heel knocking the screaming man unconscious.

The agonized shouts had not been silenced quickly enough . Several guards had been alerted and now rushed to help their fallen compadres.

"Holy sh… crap.." Murdock corrected himself. "Three more comin' Colonel." The disappointment was evident in his voice. "They look mad ..and sober."

Rolling to his feet the soldier leapt for the fallen 60 gun. The three guards were on him instantly. The men went down in a tangle of thrashing legs and pummeling fists.

BA shook violently at the cage door.

Smith ground his jaw in frustration. "Lieutenant… can we put a rush on that...they are polishing the floor with our guy…"

BA again attacked the door of the cell . This time the chain gave and the door sprung open.

Face, ever adaptable, had bent the uniform pin into a lock pick and gone diligently to work on the rusted lock. After patient encouragement it finally released with a satisfying metallic clank. Face closed his eyes and sighed with content. "Man I love that sound." It always brought back fond memories…

Once, the sisters had taken the children from the orphanage to the zoo. He had gotten a wild hair, as he often did, in those days and decided to mix things up a bit. Templeton's Recipe for Fun? …Just take 500 plus zoo tourists… a boring summer afternoon.. and add 26 newly liberated monkeys…. Sit back and laugh. He had often wondered what would have happened if he had picked the lock on the Rhino cage that day. His eyes slid open and he watched BA break loose from the cell…. and he didn't have to wonder anymore.


	6. Pink Elephants

By the time Peck conquered the lock, one of the guards had regained his footing and began stomping upon the struggling combatants with reckless abandon. Several times his heavy heeled boots landed wide of his target, striking his own comrades.

Baracus bounded across the small clearing and ducked inside the shelter. Raring a heavy thigh to his chest he kicked forward, smashing his own booted foot into the chest of the attacking guard. Driving the air from the man's lungs the kick sent him airborne into the side of the sheet metal shelter.

Murdock was on the man in an instant, allowing Baracus to begin his own, more calculated attack, into the writhing pile. BA looked for an opening between the entangled limbs. Finding it, he dropped a hammer-like blow onto a clear patch of dingy white fabric.

A choked gasp of pain escaped the recipient of the assault. Rolling painfully in an attempt to better protect his vunerable rib cage, the twisting of the pile reveled more clearly the source of the muffled voice.

The young guard struggled breathlessly. His skin had adopted a ghostly pallor, the natural olive hue of his face had become a colorless mask of white, contrasted dramatically against his dark protruding eyes and a the ominous bluish tint of his gasping lips.

BA observed with a grim smile of approval a black strip of leather twisting deeper and deeper into the neck of his former captor. The guard struggled to break the grip of the constricting garrote with one hand while continuing the assault on it's administrator with the other.

Baracus slammed a ring less fist into the bloating face of the guard and broke both the man's nose and his will to fight.

Several swift knee strikes landed into the side of the would -be- savior before Smith arrived to block the punishing attack from the remaining assailant. Catching the man's leg with his foot he flipped the pile again . A high pitched scream came from the guard as the bone in his arm gave way. Snapping just above his wrist, the twisted lock of legs in which he had been entwined coupled with the sudden shift of body weight had finally produced the intended effect.

Smith silenced the wail with a sharp left cross to the man's jaw.

Murdock winced as he observed the injury. " Not even _I _can heal _that_…That's at _least_ two months in plaster -o-Paris buddy."

Tapping the boot of the soldier, Smith attempted to unsnarl the mass of bodies "He's out.. let up."

The Colonel's brow furrowed. He leaned in closer toward the bottom of the tangle of limbs his face close enough to ruffle the camo net that covered the soldiers face. "Release solider!" He ordered sternly.

Smith's voice came again, it was oddly calm, a stark contrast to the proceeding mayhem. "They aren't getting up… Ease up." He remained crouched beside the twisted heap awaiting a response.

Slowly the booted feet untwined from the sagging guard and the camo painted hand released the wrist lock, allowing Peck and Murdock to pull the limp form off the smaller man.

BA finally managed to pull loose the strip of leather and successfully freed the other guard from the braided noose. Satisfied by the sounds of hitching breath that the man would live. BA examined the garrote closer. The intricate woven straps of delicate soft cow hide.. separate not reliable enough to trust with one of his lightest gold pendants.. But together ..he nodded in approval at the simplicity and effectiveness of the primitive weapon. He tossed the item beside the Colonel for his inspection and possible return to its' owner and snarled as he thought again of his gold.

Smith shook his head in disbelief, swiping an arm across his forehead, clearing the clammy sweat and rain from his brow as he continued to kneel beside camo clad soldier who had finally struggled up to a sitting position. He squinted his eyes considering the person before him and wondered exactly how high a fever he must actually have to experience a halluniciation of this magnitude.

What the hell... He would take this over a pink elephant any day. The Colonel grinned as he offered his hand and an introduction to the battered soldier. "Hannibal Smith."

A moment of hesitation passed between the two.

Smith's smile widened as he acknowledged his still empty and extended hand. "And I expect to get this one back in better condition than the last guy you tangled with… lady."


	7. A Little Finesse

Accepting his offered hand the woman was pulled to her feet as the Colonel stood. Holding firmly on to her hand, Smith awaited the other half of the introduction.

There was a brief flash of teeth beneath the camo net before she spoke. "Jessica Stamper."

Smith nodded as he pumped her hand twice, "Charmed to be sure."

Murdock reappeared at his commander's side as the woman removed the netting from her face.

"Your not here with your Grandpa, Willie, by chance.. are you?" Murdock babbled at the woman. "I told him I would get that puddin' back to him and I haven't forgot… Its on my agenda.. Its just with all of the revivals and come to Jesus meetings.. I haven't had time."

"Shut it Foo!" BA thundered as he pushed past Face, who was limping up to join the party.

"Watch it BA!" Face used his officer vs. enlisted tone.

BA growled back annoyed by the jeering reprimand from his long time friend.

"Who are you?" BA demanded. Grasping the soaked LBE strap that ran over her shoulder he shook her solidly.

"Easy BA." Smith commanded, his eyes never leaving the face of the woman. "Watch how you talk to our new best friend."

The heavy camouflage paint on her face obscured most of her facial characitisics, but Smith had her figured for early thirty's. Her short hair was most probably light brown but impossible to tell for sure due to the mud and grease that she had pulled through it to prevent light reflection. Her eyes were the only feature not altered by the camouflage and even they were a compliment to her attire. A fusion of brown and gold earth tones with flecks of sparking green. Releasing her hand, Smith continued to study her as he crooked a smile and savored the feeling of freedom.

"Ahm.. Not to to seem ungrateful," Face nodded at the Colonel, "but .. Really.. What gives? Who are you? Who do you work for?"

Smith cocked his head expectantly at the woman.

She looked warily at the haggard men that surrounded her. Her black painted lips curved slightly at the corner of her mouth. "Does it really matter at this point who I am or why I'm here?"

Smith returned her smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. His relaxed posture and demeanor implied that despite their current situation he was indeed willing to wait for an answer.

The woman grinned at this, shaking her head in amusement.

"I don't work for anyone you'd know." She glanced from one to the other, uncomfortable with the Colonels piercing gaze. "There are organizations here that work to protect Americans." She shrugged off the shoulder harness that BA had used to throttle her as she spoke. "Word came through that the A-team was alive and captive in Colombia." Removing her canteen from her belt she unscrewed the cap and took a deep draw. She offered the liquid to Murdock when she finished. He accepted and they past it among one another.

"We got confirmation on your fingerprints and here I am." She stated it as if it was a natural course of action that she would be dispatched to cover the event.

Smith squinted as he again sized her up. "No offense intended lady-" he began.

"But why send in me instead of a troop of testosterone soaked Marines?" She offered up the rest of his obvious question.

The Colonel nodded his head, not a bit embarrassed by what most would construed as blatant sexism. The fact was men served as combatants and women represented unfortunate collateral damage or alluring diversions during war time exercises.

The woman cracked into another smile. Straight forward and to the point. So far meeting the A-team had not disappointed.

"The macho approach didn't seem to work the first time," She glanced appreciatively around at the newly liberated men. "So it was determined a little finesse might be in order."

Murdock rolled his eyes at Face who snorted an amused laugh. The Colonel continued to stare impassively at the woman before him. BA growled at her response before turning angrily away to monitor the perimeter.

Stamper's smile brightened, "If it makes you feel better, there _are _9 of the baddiest- ass men you will ever meet lurking in the shadows outside of this compound, just waiting for an opportunity to unleash on these dirt bags."

Smith cocked an eyebrow, "Then why are we talking to _you_?"

She dropped the smile instantly. "Cause they sound like bulls in a China shop when they move through the brush and I'm not gonna loose even one man trying to pull your asses out of this dump. No matter how great the press says you are."

Smith reached down and snatched up the battered 60 gun. Flicking his cool eyes over the weapon he snapped the firing selector to automatic. "Well you and your boys better get ready …cause finesse has never been one of our fortes."


End file.
